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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041865">life's a beach and you're here, dude?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkyfresh/pseuds/funkyfresh'>funkyfresh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adult Losers Club (IT), Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, eddie and stan are alive fuck you, richie has a dog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:41:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkyfresh/pseuds/funkyfresh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>richie is sad and has a huge beach house: losers club vacation shenanigans and reddie angst ensue!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. richie tozier needs friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>what's up party people!! i'll try to update this pretty regularly and i hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fame has a tendency to go to one’s head. However, even after countless successful tours, comedy specials, and movie deals, Richie Tozier stayed humble. He drove a Subaru Crosstrek. Most of his meals were microwavable. His home was an average size and he rolled out a shitty Slip N’ Slide in the summer rather than investing in a pool. Richie loved his average life and, although he had the funds, he had no interest in living lavishly. </p><p>This lifestyle excluded his multi-million dollar vacation house. </p><p>After a particularly profitable Netflix deal, Richie felt the need to celebrate. He was rolling in it. What else was he going to do with his money? Freezable breakfast burritos and second-hand Hawaiian shirts weren’t exactly breaking the bank. A gorgeous Pacific Palisades beach house had just gone on the market and he couldn’t resist. He called his realtor and, within weeks, he had a waterfront mansion all to himself. The next day, he packed a bag, hopped in his car, and headed to his new place for the summer. </p><p>Late one afternoon, Richie sat alone on the beach. Maurie, his German Shepard puppy, lay curled by his feet on the lounge chair. The wind swept through the sand, the waves crashed gently on the shore, and despite the luxury surrounding him, Richie was lonely. </p><p>“It’s nice outside tonight, right, Maurie?” </p><p>The puppy stirred at the sound of Richie’s voice but continued to snore. Richie sighed. He needed some fucking friends.</p><p>---</p><p>“Bev, do you know where my purple tie is? The one Mike got me for Christmas?” Ben stumbled into the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand as he buttoned his shirt with the other.</p><p>Beverly looked up from the eggs on the stove. “Check the dryer, sweetie, but I’m not sure. What time do you need to be at the meeting?”</p><p>“Nine,” Ben replied, turning the corner into the laundry room. “But I should get there a little early to set up the presentation.” He returned to the kitchen a moment later with a necktie in his hand. Setting his coffee down on the counter, he kissed his wife on the cheek and began to fasten the tie. </p><p>Beverly turned around, grinning, and pushed Ben’s hands down to his sides. She gently resumed fastening the tie and smoothed it against his chest. “There,” she said quietly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You look great. You’re going to be awesome.”</p><p>“I know,” Ben said, sarcastically strutting to the table to grab his briefcase as Beverly laughed. He dropped the cocky facade as he rifled through the bag, checking his notes. “I’m just stressed. It’s fine.”</p><p>“We need to plan a getaway soon,” Beverly added, scooping some scrambled eggs onto a plate and bringing it to her husband. “And we need to see Bill. It’s been too long.”</p><p>“And Stan. And Eddie. And… everybody,” Ben chuckled, taking a seat and eating his breakfast. Beverly sat down next to him. The birds chirped outside and she sighed contentedly as she laid her head on Ben’s shoulder. </p><p>“Wouldn’t it be nice to get everybody together again?” Beverly mused. “I wish we could find time to-”</p><p>Beverly was interrupted by the buzzing of her cellphone on the table. She turned it over and was met with a photo of Richie in a giant sombrero, a shit-eating grin on his face, his name displayed on the top of the screen. Chuckling, she answered and put her friend on speaker.</p><p>“Rich?”</p><p>“Hey, Bev!”</p><p>“Richie, what’s up!” Ben leaned in. “You’re on speaker, bud.”</p><p>“Shit, Beverly, why would you put me on speaker? We’re supposed to be keeping this affair a secret.”</p><p>Ben laughed. “How’re things, Rich?”</p><p>“Ben, you know what? Things are pretty lame. I just bought a huge-ass beach house and, as it turns out, I have no friends.”</p><p>“You’re just now realizing that you have no friends?” Beverly added. </p><p>“Wow, fuck you. I’m not even going to tell you the reason I called.”</p><p>Ben sighed happily. “Ignore her, Rich, tell us.”</p><p>“Okay, so, I have this cool house and I need to fill it with cool people. You guys are cool and I want you to come over!”</p><p>Beverly hesitated for a moment. She and Ben were certainly cool people, but they were also busy people. “Richie, as great as that sou-”</p><p>“Stan already agreed, Bill just booked his flight, Eddie asked me what the thread count is on my guest sheets, and Mike just sent me a weird picture of the swim trunks he bought for the occasion. They have dinosaurs on them. It’s gonna be great, guys.”</p><p>Ben looked over to his wife, earnest. “Well, we wanted to take a vacation anyway, Bev.”</p><p>“Wish granted! Everyone’s getting here Sunday so we can hang out and do Independence Day stuff.”</p><p>With a skeptical look, Beverly walked over to the calendar on the wall. She scanned the dates in question and looked back at Ben with a grin. “That’ll work.” </p><p>“That’ll work,” Ben repeated into the phone.</p><p>“Sweet! Ben, I hope you’re cool with the fact that Bev and I will be fucking all week. Wasn’t kidding about the affair. Okay, gotta go! Bye! See you soon, losers!”</p><p>As Richie hung up, Ben and Beverly smiled at each other. The rest of the morning was filled with excitement and anticipation. In a few short days, they would be reunited with all of their friends. Even as Ben stood before his coworkers and spouted off technical terms and boring statistics for his newest architectural plan, he couldn’t help but grin. </p><p>---</p><p>Richie: hello dearest house guests please send me your grocery store orders</p><p>Stan: goldfish legs</p><p>Bill: a bucket of steam</p><p>Richie: i regret inviting you people into my home</p><p>Ben: some kale would be great</p><p>Ben: and some fruit too i like to make smoothies in the morning</p><p>Richie: your healthiness disgusts me</p><p>Eddie: honey nut cheerios and skim milk please</p><p>Bill: green tea if you don’t mind</p><p>Mike: some of those granola bars that fall apart the second you open them</p><p>Richie: i somehow know exactly what you’re talking about</p><p>Stan: a ton of blueberries and strawberries i’ll make you guys a pie for the fourth of july</p><p>Stan: i assume you already have flour and sugar and stuff richie?</p><p>Richie: you’d be wrong i’ll get that too</p><p>Bev: those little cheeses with the wax on them</p><p>Richie: your taste is immaculate bev i already have those </p><p>Ben: you’re telling me you don’t have flour but you have wax-covered balls of cheese? </p><p>Richie: priorities dear benjamin</p><p>---</p><p>Although the fame hadn’t gone to his head, Richie found that it had done something far more sinister. It had isolated him.</p><p>Every child imagines what it would be like to be a celebrity. When a school-aged Richie daydreamed about life as a famous comedian, he pictured the glamorous parties, the fans admiring him, and the audiences cheering for him. What he hadn’t accounted for was the time in between. Days alone on a tour bus. Returning home to an empty house. Answering shallow questions over and over again without ever being asked how his life is truly going. </p><p>Every date Richie had gone on in the last two years had ended poorly. The guy was either only interested in fucking a celebrity or in the prospect of Hollywood connections. Fans were constantly telling Richie that they loved him. However, it’s difficult to believe you’re loved when you spend every single night alone. Close friends are hard to come by on the road and, when aloof celebrities ask how you are, they don’t want the truth.</p><p>Whenever his mother called, he lied to her.</p><p>“I went out with this great guy last night,” he would say. “He was super sweet, we’re seeing each other again next weekend. But I have to go soon, mom, I’m meeting friends for dinner.”</p><p>Richie couldn’t remember the last time he met friends for dinner. </p><p>Most nights consisted of getting tipsy, ordering takeout, and watching a movie. Alone. And why Mike would want those crumbly granola bars from hell, Richie would never know. But he couldn’t sleep anyway, so he was scouring the snack aisle of the nearest Whole Foods at midnight looking for them. His cart was brimming with the items his friends requested and everything he needed for an Independence Day cook-out. He scanned the shelves, determined to find the granola bars, and was paying such close attention that he almost didn’t hear the voice that piped up from behind him.</p><p>“Trashmouth?”</p><p>Richie turned around to meet the elated gaze of a teenage girl being closely followed by her friend.</p><p>“Uh… yeah. Trashmouth Tozier, that’s me,” he replied. The girls were grinning from ear to ear and he could tell they were fans </p><p>One of the teens fidgeted excitedly, reaching for her phone. “Oh my god, Richie, I don’t know what to say! Can we take a picture together? My friend and I love you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Richie replied, smiling regardless of how tired he was. “Of course.” </p><p>He put his arm around the fans as one prepped her phone for a selfie. He smiled as she took the photo.</p><p>“Wanna take a silly one, too?” Richie asked. The girls laughed and nodded. They took a few more pictures, chatted for a moment about their favorite parts of his most recent special, and said their goodbyes. </p><p>He watched them walk away, then turned back to the shelf, fighting a yawn. The granola bars were found, the food was paid for, and Richie returned to his new place. Being lonely in an average-sized house was okay. It felt like home and it didn’t feel too empty. But being lonely in a waterfront mansion was different. It felt cold, it felt dismal, and Richie felt like crying. He felt like the Beast; he was living in luxury but had nobody to share it with. But at least the Beast had singing cups and a cool candle butler. But, hey, Richie had a Big Mouth Billy Bass on the wall in the basement. It played “Bad To The Bone.” </p><p>He knew his friends would be there soon and he would cheer up, but that thought only brought up another wounding one: All of Richie’s friends had someone. Bill had Audra. Stan had Patty. Eddie had Myra, Mike had been texting nonstop about a great new girl he was seeing, and Ben and Beverly had just gotten married. Who did Richie have? Richie had a German Shepard puppy named Maurie curled up at the foot of his bed. But Maurie’s presence did nothing to make Richie feel less alone. All the dog’s quiet breathing did was keep the house from being completely silent. From being completely empty. </p><p>--- </p><p>Richie woke up to his cell phone blaring “Who Let The Dogs Out.” He grinned at his obnoxious ringtone, still half asleep, and picked it up. </p><p>“Hello?” His voice was rough with drowsiness as he slowly sat up and pulled the phone to his ear.</p><p>“Richie?”</p><p>“Yeah… who’s this?”</p><p>“Caller ID exists, numb-nuts. It’s Eddie. I’m outside. Come open the door.”</p><p>Richie rubbed his eyes as he looked at the clock, incredulous. “It’s fuckin’ nine in the morning, Eds.”</p><p>“I told you I’d be here today.”</p><p>Groaning, Richie swung his feet to the floor and got up, tossing his comforter aside. “Well, you should have let me know that I needed to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready for your esteemed arrival.” He made his way out of his bedroom, into the hallway, and down the stairs.</p><p>“I half expected some kind of butler to come let me in. Jesus, Rich, this place is crazy.”</p><p>“Yeah, diggin’ the digs, Eds?”</p><p>“The outside of the digs. If you had anything to do with the home decor, I’m sure the inside won’t be quite as impressive. Hey, I can see you through the window. Open the door, asshole, I need to set down these bags.”</p><p>Richie jogged the rest of the way to the door, only now realizing how excited he was to see his friend. He threw the door open, exuberant, and was met with a pile of bags rather than Eddie’s face. Richie grabbed one of the giant duffels from his friend’s arms and smiled once he could see Eddie smiling back at him.</p><p>“Welcome to the Trash-lor Pad, Eduardo,” Richie announced, opening the door even wider and ushering Eddie inside.</p><p>Eddie groaned at the stupid pun. “I haven’t seen you in months and that’s your opening line?” He set his second and third duffel bags, stuffed full of god-knows-what, down by the door as he closed it behind him. </p><p>Richie yawned and stretched, still tired, and padded towards the kitchen. “All part of my charm, Eds. Want some coffee?”</p><p>“Already had some,” Eddie replied, slowly following Richie, looking around and the inside of the house. A huge glass chandelier hung above him in the entryway. Wacky and beautiful paintings hung on the walls. The floors were of gorgeous dark wood and the ceilings were populated with skylights, letting the early morning’s sun stream in. “This place is crazy, Richie.”</p><p>“Not as crazy as you are,” Richie replied, pouring a cup of coffee as Eddie rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Why would you agree to meet me at this secluded location if you were sane?” he continued. ”You know I’m going to murder you, right?”</p><p>Eddie sat down at the kitchen island, marveling at the granite countertops and stunning wooden cabinets. “I’m okay with dying in a kitchen like this. Do you even cook enough to need a double oven?”</p><p>Richie hopped up to sit on the counter, his sock-clad feet swinging as he sipped his coffee. “Nope. But I bet Stan will break it in for me. He gets in tonight.”</p><p>“Right, am I the first one here?” Eddie got up and began to wander towards the living room, still floored by how nice a house inhabited by Richie Tozier could be.</p><p>Richie followed him. “You are indeed. Want the grand tour?”</p><p>“Sure,” Eddie replied, running his hands over the leather couch cushions and admiring the view of the ocean through Richie’s huge windows.</p><p>Richie leaned against the wall and watched, smiling, as Eddie admired his home. It was weird, but he was thrilled that he was impressing him. “Whenever you’re done getting off on my furniture,” Richie chuckled.</p><p>Eddie rolled his eyes and followed Richie who was taking off across the house. “They’re nice couches, you dick.”</p><p>“I’ll bring a cushion up to your room tonight if you want some time alone with it,” Richie said, smirking as he led Eddie outside to the back patio. “I think Beverly is pretty good with a needle and thread if any holes need to be fi-“</p><p>“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie practically shouted, shutting the sliding door behind them. “This gorgeous yard deserves better than your shitty jokes.”</p><p>Richie laughed, continuing along and beckoning Eddie. They stood on a stone patio overlooking the ocean. A glass table with a Hawaiian-print umbrella sat next to a hefty grill and fire pit. A fence to the right led to the swimming pool and, down a few steps, the beach was right there.</p><p>“Why do you need a pool if you have the ocean two seconds away?” Eddie sat down on the steps, his feet in the sand.</p><p>Richie jumped the steps and landed on the beach in front of his friend. “Because,” he said. “I knew you’d be visiting, Eddie Spaghetti, and I know you’re too scared of fish pee to get into the filthy ocean.” He turned, offered his hand to Eddie and, after hoisting his friend to his feet, took off towards the water.</p><p>“I’m not scared of fish pee,” Eddie called, but Richie was too far away to hear him. “Waterborne illnesses are real! And dangerous!” He ran toward the water where Richie was now wading and splashing around.</p><p>“It’s not too cold, Eddie, come on!” Richie made a show of flopping backward into a wave, drenching his boxers and pajama shirt. </p><p>Eddie chuckled. “I’ll get my feet wet, moron.” With his flip-flops still on, he carefully let the water lap at his ankles. Not too cold, but refreshing nonetheless. Eddie put his hands on his hips and gazed out at the horizon. The morning sunlight bounced on the water, a boat bobbed in the distance, and sequestered birds sang quietly. It was really, really gorgeous. </p><p>---</p><p>For not being able to cook, Richie Tozier sure could make a mean chili. A big bowl of his signature dish sat in the middle of the dining table accompanied by Mike’s garden salad, Beverly’s cornbread, and the tortilla chips Stan made even after Richie insisted that store-bought was fine. Around the table itself was a group of joyful friends, elated to be reunited. They were talking, laughing, catching up, and filling Richie with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. </p><p>Once everyone arrived, they had fought over bedrooms and prepared dinner. Even the cooking, although a tedious task, contained not a moment of silence as the Losers filled each other in on their lives. They hadn’t been together since Ben and Beverly’s wedding, but they picked up right where they left off. It seemed not a day had passed since they were biking through the streets of Derry and enjoying each other’s company without the stressors of adulthood. </p><p>“Where do you keep your napkins, Rich?” Eddie had gotten up from the table and was rifling through the kitchen drawers.</p><p>Richie pointed as he swallowed the food in his mouth. “Second drawer to your left.”</p><p>Eddie followed his instruction and opened the drawer in question. Richie watched in delight as Eddie’s face fell. </p><p>“All that’s in here…” Eddie began, stifling laughter and pretending to be mad, “is a piece of paper that says ‘Eat a dick.’”</p><p>Bill was the first to snicker, but all of the Losers were soon engulfed in fits of laughter. Richie chuckled as his joke, mentally patting himself on the back.</p><p>“I’ve been waiting for someone to ask,” Richie confessed. “That’s been in there since last night.”</p><p>Eddie trudged back to the table, the paper in his hands, and sat back down. For good measure, he flicked the paper into Richie’s serving of chili. Never phased and never breaking eye-contact, Richie picked it back out, licked the sauce off, and watched as Eddie writhed in disgust.</p><p>“Do you know how many germs are probably on that? Did you clean the drawers out when you moved in? I bet you don’t even know who lived here before you. Or their medical history,” Eddie droned.</p><p>Richie patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Eddie Spaghetti. I won’t catch anything I haven’t already picked up from your mom.”</p><p>Ben leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You know,” he added, “I thought famous comedians were supposed to be funny.”</p><p>With a roll of his eyes, Richie leaned closer to Ben. “Yeah? Well, I thought smart, handsome, successful architects were supposed to be… uh… shit.” He trailed off as his confidence disappeared. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing. Ben’s perfect.”</p><p>Beverly nodded in agreement, kissing her husband on the cheek. Mike faked a gag.</p><p>“Shut up,” Stan scolded, elbowing Mike in the ribs. “They’re cute.”</p><p>Bill gestured to the two of them. “Yeah, h–how is the happy couple a–anyway?” </p><p>Ben and Beverly looked at each other, practically glowing as smiles lit up their faces. They had only been married for almost a year, but they were still as smitten as they were on their wedding day. It was evident in every conversation, every glance, and every moment they shared. </p><p>“Great,” Ben stated plainly. He didn’t need to say anything more. Their friends could tell it was the truth. “Stan, what about Patty?”</p><p>“She’s doing well,” Stanley told them happily. “She’s been doing a lot of scrapbooking lately, so I sometimes help her with these stickers and we-”</p><p>“Oh my god, Stan,” Richie interrupted. “You need to stop or I might actually slip into a coma. We all know you two are freaky, you don’t need to hide it.”</p><p>Mike chuckled, grabbing another piece of cornbread. “He’s right, there’s no way you guys are as vanilla as you seem.”</p><p>“He wears cardigans,” Beverly said, gesturing to Stan. “Cardigans are always a coverup for something.”</p><p>“Bill, on the other hand,” Richie added, “is definitely as vanilla as he seems.”</p><p>Ben snickered, trying to stifle his laughter. “Oh, for sure.” </p><p>With a groan, Bill dramatically let his forehead fall to the table. “This is an awful d–dinner conversation.”</p><p>“He’s right,” Eddie added. He had been quiet for a while but, once he spoke, everyone’s attention was on him. He looked concerned. Almost scared. </p><p>Ben’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, uh… Eddie, how’s Myra? You haven’t told us much about how you’re doing.”</p><p>“Yeah, catch us up,” Beverly added with a warm smile.</p><p>Eddie’s expression stayed reserved as he fiddled with the tablecloth. “We, uh… well, we’ve actually…”</p><p>He cleared his throat as his friends slowly realized something was wrong.</p><p>“We've actually been separated for the last couple weeks,” he finished.</p><p>Richie's heart shuddered in his chest. A thousand feelings began to stir in his stomach. He watched Eddie's eyes fix on the floor. He watched his friends' faces fall as they took in what Eddie was saying. Among the cacophony of thoughts, Richie could pick out only three.</p><p>1. Eddie was still the object of his affection after all of this time apart.</p><p>2. Eddie was lonely.</p><p>3. Richie was lonely, too.</p><p>---</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. richie tozier sings a song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i've literally had this chapter sitting in my google drive for so long and i'm just publishing it now oops</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even without looking, Eddie could feel the burn of concerned eyes on him. He had managed to go hours without telling them about his marital issues and he had hoped it wouldn’t come up at all that week. But, to no avail. He could never keep anything from the Losers. </p><p>Beverly leaned towards him. “What do you mean by separated?”</p><p>He didn’t meet her gaze, sure that the moment he looked up, he would see the solicitude on the faces of his friends. Since childhood, Eddie had been the one everyone needed to look out for. He didn’t want to prove his helplessness. He didn’t want them to see that he hadn’t grown out of his pathetic nature.</p><p>And so he shrugged. “We’ve just… I don’t know, we’d just been fighting a lot.” Eddie poked his food with a fork. “She went to stay with a friend a few weeks ago and I’m… I’m not sure when she’s planning to come back.”</p><p>“I’m really sorry to hear that, man,” Stanley muttered, not knowing what else to say.</p><p>Mike nodded, although Eddie wasn’t paying attention. “Yeah, and if you ever need anything, we’re all happy to help.”</p><p>The others added on, quietly agreeing but avoiding overstepping. </p><p>Eddie scratched his head, desperate to change the topic. “I’m okay, really. Everything’s fine. Uh…” He closed his eyes. “Bill, how’s Audra?”</p><p>“S-she’s doing well,” Bill began hesitantly, eyeing Eddie and cautiously making sure it was okay to change the subject. Although he didn’t say a word, Eddie silently urged Bill to go on with a pleading glance, his gaze finally leaving the floor. </p><p>Bill continued. “My birthday was last m-month and she surprised me with a weekend away, it was really nice.”</p><p>“That’s great, dude,” Ben replied quietly, but an awkward hush had fallen over the table. Eddie felt his face burning and knew he was to blame. He was always to blame when things went wrong. Even back in Derry, he was the one slowing everyone down. And, although Myra was too cold to tell Eddie what was wrong, he was sure her anger was his fault too.</p><p>Breaking the silence, Richie pushed his chair away from the table. “I know Stan is some kind of baking extraordinaire,” he said, walking over to the refrigerator, “but I thought we might all appreciate a Tozier specialty dessert for tonight.” With his back turned, he reached in, soon returning to the table with a brimming plate of cookies. </p><p>Beverly admired them as they were set onto the table. “Woah, did you make those, Rich?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Richie replied proudly, sitting back down as Beverly grabbed one and took a bite. “They’re edibles,” he added.</p><p>Beverly promptly spit it out, crumbs falling onto her plate. “Seriously?” She looked up at Richie, incredulous.</p><p>He chuckled quietly, grabbing one for himself. “I’m fucking with you. They’re from a tube. I’m not Gordon Ramsey.”</p><p>Ben smiled, taking one as well. “Too bad. I was kinda hoping they’d take the edge off. I’ve needed this vacation.”</p><p>“Same,” Mike added, leaning forward in his chair, reaching for the plate. “I dedicate this cookie to taking a load off.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” Eddie stated, shyly smiling.“Are they gluten-free, Rich?”</p><p>“And he’s back,” Richie announced, prompting the laughter of his friends.</p><p>---</p><p>As the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, the Losers sat around the firepit on Richie’s patio. The music playing quietly from the house and the sound of the waves brushing the sand kept everyone at peace. They were all thinking to themselves and taking in the evening. </p><p>“Do you remember the time that Richie tracked mud into Eddie’s house?” Mike chuckled, the warm glow of the fire sparkling in his eyes as he smiled.</p><p>Eddie laughed, looking over at Richie. “I don’t think she’s ever yelled louder than she did that day.”</p><p>“Hey, it’s her fault. Who buys white carpet?” Richie grinned, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of beer.</p><p>The music from the house had been quietly playing the entire time, but, at that moment, Beverly took notice of what was playing. “Linger? By The Cranberries? Richie, your music taste is shit,” she commented.</p><p>“Oh my god, isn’t that the song that you did that stupid lip-syncing dance to in the freshman talent show?” Bill sat forward in his chair.  </p><p>“You’re damn right it is,” Richie stated. “And I deserved to win. I’m still salty about it.”</p><p>“Lip-syncing isn’t a talent, though,” Stanley reasoned, picking up his La Croix. </p><p>Richie looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Talent shows are too political. Have you forgotten my incredible dance moves?” He set his drink down and stood up, clearing his throat. As the song’s chorus returned, he began to dance. </p><p>‘Dance’ might not be the correct word. It was more of a gyrating walk mixed with some slow and confusing arm movements. </p><p>Regardless, the Losers watched and laughed as Richie made a scene. </p><p>Eddie was the most focussed of all. </p><p>He could vividly remember the freshman talent show. He could see that idiotic pair of silver shorts and the fringed vest that Richie had worn in his mind’s eye. He remembered those tacky sunglasses and how good Richie looked in them even if they were just for laughs. As the song continued to play and Eddie’s eyes followed Richie around the patio, he felt his stomach drop. </p><p>He was still in love with that moron. </p><p>Richie twirled around, heading towards Eddie with his questionable dancing. He had turned up the volume and was now all in, his fancy footwork accompanied by very loud and very terrible singing. </p><p>It didn’t matter to Eddie. All that mattered was the words.</p><p>
  <i>And I’m in so deep.<br/>You know I’m such a fool for you.<br/>You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.<br/>Do you have to let it linger?<br/>Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?</i>
</p><p>The Losers laughed. Eddie did too, but his face was turning red and he felt like his chest was full of stones. </p><p>He wasn’t afraid, necessarily. Just flustered. And overwhelmed. And nervous about what Richie would think if he told him how he felt. And nervous about what would happen if he didn’t confess, if he let his feelings burn a hole in his heart forever. </p><p>Nevermind. He was afraid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. richie tozier follows his dog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>richie's dog ships reddie</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wow we love losing all motivation to write</p>
<p>but im back!! and if you need more reddie content, i started a one-shot book too!! enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bedtime, Maurie,” Richie said with a yawn as he trudged up the stairs. It was late, he was tipsy, but all of his guest rooms were full. With his puppy bounding in front of him and his house filled with friends, Richie was happy. He approached his bedroom door and began to turn the knob, but he heard whining from down the hall. </p>
<p>“Maurie,” he muttered with a groan. His dog was a troublemaker. Richie followed the noise until he saw where it was coming from. Maurie hadn’t gotten into the toilet paper again. He hadn’t gotten his head stuck under the railing and he wasn’t vying for a treat. He was sitting outside of Eddie’s door. </p>
<p>“What’s up, dude?” Richie knelt down and scratched the dog’s head. “You wanna go in there?”</p>
<p>Maurie whimpered again, pawing at the door. Richie stood up with a sigh and knocked quietly.</p>
<p>“Eds? Are you eating a late-night t-bone steak in there? My dog wants in.”</p>
<p>He heard Eddie’s voice. It was gentle, yet hesitant. “Rich, I’m… uh, sure. Sure.”</p>
<p>Richie opened the door and Maurie ran into the room. He jumped onto the bed where Eddie was sitting cross-legged. He wore plain, flannel pants and a faded shirt reading “I’m With Stupid.” His eyes were teary, but Richie didn’t think anything of it.</p>
<p>“Didn’t I get you that shirt?” Richie meandered into the room, watching Eddie scratch his dog’s belly. </p>
<p>Eddie laughed, sniffling. “Yeah, and you had the matching one, the one that said ‘I’m Stupid.’ And… then you ruined it at Stan’s Halloween party. Bobbing for apples in red wine. Your idea.”</p>
<p>“That I did,” Richie chuckled. “I was just trying to live up to the shirt, man.”</p>
<p>“I mean… that was pretty stupid,” Eddie replied, scooting backward and leaning against the headboard. Maurie followed him, curling up by his side.</p>
<p>“Mission accomplished, then.” Richie sat down at the foot of the bed. It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s expression. His reddened eyes. His wet cheeks. “Hey… are you okay?”</p>
<p>Eddie nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“I detect false information," Richie said, pulling his legs onto the bed and turning to face his friend. “What’s up? Was my chili too spicy for you, Eds? Was my dancing too perfect and it reminded you that you’ll never measure up?”</p>
<p>Eddie chuckled quietly and uncrossed his legs, laying down on the bed. “Something like that.”</p>
<p>Richie maneuvered past his dog and laid down, resting his head on the pillow and looking at Eddie. At his best friend of thirty years. His best friend who was obviously upset. Richie didn’t know why and Richie didn’t know what to do.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to ask what was wrong. Even when they were children, Richie and Eddie had an unspoken agreement. If either was upset, the other was the lifeline. Richie recalled all of the late-night phone calls that led to his scaling the Kaspbrak shed and knocking on Eddie’s window. He remembered tapping Eddie’s classroom door until he got the message and followed Richie to the bathroom. To the big stall where they’d sit on the filthy floor and breathe. They never talked about what was wrong. They were simply there for each other. </p>
<p>Eddie closed his eyes. “Really, Rich, I’m okay. I’ll be fine in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Unless you die in your sleep.”</p>
<p>“Why the hell would you say that?” Eddie tried to be mad. He buried his face in the pillow. No matter how hard he tried not to laugh, the truth was, he was glad Richie was around. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Richie said.</p>
<p>Eddie looked over at him. “For what?”</p>
<p>Richie sighed, meeting Eddie’s gaze. “Just… I don’t know. I’m not helping. I don’t know what to say, but… I just want you to be happy.”</p>
<p>“Rich, you don’t have to say anything to make me happy. You just…”</p>
<p>
  <em> You just have to be here. If you’d just reach over and kiss me, if you’d just close your stupid mouth and kiss me, I’d be the happiest I’ve ever been.  </em>
</p>
<p>“You just have to be here. That’s it.”</p>
<p>Richie nodded, looking at Maurie. He was fast asleep, his ears twitching as he breathed. A flood of thoughts overtook his mind. Richie tried to stop them, but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>
  <em> Richie and Eddie with a dog. Richie and Eddie with a kid. Richie and Eddie at the park with their dog and their kid. Richie and Eddie smiling and happy and in love. Richie and Eddie- </em>
</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go to bed.”</p>
<p>Eddie nodded. “Yeah, okay.”</p>
<p>“I’m gonna leave the dog in here if that’s cool. He’s a dick if you disturb his slumber.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Eddie chuckled. He pulled back the covers and got comfortable. “Goodnight, then.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” Richie said as he sat up. With his feet on the floor, he hesitated for a moment. He thought about what he actually wanted. He didn’t want to go to bed. He wanted to wrap Eddie in his arms, hold him close, and wake up tangled together with the sun streaming in the window. </p>
<p>But he got up. He walked to the door. He closed it behind him. He made his way down the hall, got into bed, and fell asleep. In the morning, he’d feel better. In the morning, he would stop thinking impossible thoughts. In the morning, he’d have his head on straight.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Richie… Rich, wake up.”</p>
<p>Richie groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face into his pillow. “What?”</p>
<p>“What do I do with this fucking dog?” Eddie stood over the bed with Maurie at his feet.</p>
<p>Richie rolled over and slowly sat up, groggy. He yawned as he stretched his arms to the ceiling, exposing his stomach as his shirt lifted ever so slightly. Eddie liked it more than he’d care to admit.</p>
<p>“I have to take him outside before he pees on my carpet.” </p>
<p>Richie quite literally rolled out of bed and padded over to the dresser. “Shield your eyes, I’m about to strip.” He pulled his shirt off and threw it over Eddie’s head with impeccable aim. Eddie laughed, letting himself fall backward on the bed and leaving the pajama shirt over his closed eyes. </p>
<p>It smelled like Richie. It smelled like Old Spice and the ocean. </p>
<p>“How’d you sleep?” Richie asked as he got dressed.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Eddie said, his voice muffled by the shirt. “Your dog was snoring, kept me up.”</p>
<p>Richie chuckled. “Welcome to my life. How do you feel?”</p>
<p>“About your life?”</p>
<p>“No, about whatever was salting your Kool-Aid last night.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Eddie had pushed the thoughts out of his mind, but seeing Richie fresh out of bed with his messy hair and sleepy eyes hadn’t helped. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>“I’m always going to worry about you, Eddie Spaghetti. Nothing you can do about it. Okay, you can un-shield.”</p>
<p>Eddie pulled the shirt from his head and looked over. Richie was wearing a tie-dye tank top and a pair of khaki shorts. He had a brush in his hand and was running it through his shaggy curls. </p>
<p>“Wanna come?”</p>
<p>“Come where? To let your dog take a shit on the beach?”</p>
<p>“Precisely,” Richie nodded, heading to the bathroom adjacent to his room. “Lemme brush my teeth. Go put some clothes on. I smell breakfast.”</p>
<p>---</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. richie tozier gets real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>fun times on the beach and some dramaaaaaa</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Richie clamored down the stairs, Stan was pulling a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. The scent soared through the air and Richie practically collapsed on the staircase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span>, do you know how long it’s been since I had one of those things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Judging from the amount of Jimmy Dean sandwiches in your freezer,” Stan chuckled as he set the pan down on the island, “I’d say it’s been a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit,” Richie said, strolling to the barstool next to Mike, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Stan spread his homemade frosting on top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich, I forgot to pack sunscreen, where’s yours?” Eddie was making his way down the steps in a pair of jean shorts and a striped shirt. A tan bucket hat hung around his neck by the chinstrap. He had traded the previous day’s flip flops for the ugliest pair of Newport sandals in existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Eds, you look like a dad chaperoning his kid’s school field trip,” Richie snickered as he took a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And the kid isn’t even one of the cool ones, he eats glue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie furrowed his brow. “Sunscreen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t have any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously? You’re gonna get skin cancer, asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sat back in his chair, mouth full. “And, now, you’ll be joining me on the road to melanoma. Congratulations.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie slumped against the refrigerator, checking his FitBit. “When are we leaving? I need to get my steps in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Run in place,” Richie replied, swallowing and reaching for another cinnamon roll, licking the fingers on his other hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a very nice Seinfeld blanket on my bed last night, but it might have fallen on the floor. It would be a shame if your dog took a shit on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie yanked his hand back as if he had been electrocuted and got up instantly. “We’re going,” he called, jogging to the hall closet and grabbing his Crocs. “Sport mode,” he declared as he pulled the heel strap down. “Maurie? C'mere boy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dog came bounding down the steps and skidded into the kitchen. Richie wrangled him, clipped a leash to his collar, and grabbed a plastic baggie from a closet bin labeled ‘SHIT BAGS.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s-a-go,” he said in his best Mario voice. Eddie followed him to the back door, stepping out onto the patio and into the sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To say that Richie was walking his dog wouldn’t be quite right. The dog was yanking Richie down the beach with fervor while Eddie tried his best to keep up. Waves were gently falling on the sand, the sky was crystal clear, and the beach was empty. Eddie never wanted to leave. As he chased Richie and Maurie down the shore, he smiled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An object in motion stays in motion until acted on by an opposite force. So, when Maurie stopped dead in his tracks to relieve himself, Richie kept going, the leash stopping his momentum and throwing him face-first to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow, what the fuck, Maurie?” Richie groaned, spitting to get the sand out of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie slowed down, dropping to his knees next to Richie, out of breath, trying not to laugh. “You good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so. Shit.” Richie rolled over, his hand on his forehead, wincing. Eddie leaned over him, concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Move your hand,” Eddie urged. Richie did as he was told, revealing a bloodied nick above his right eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I gonna make it, doc?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie brushed sand from the cut, noticing the nearby seashell that might have caused it. “I think you’ll pull through,” he said, sitting back on his heels. After he finished his business, Maurie curled up at Richie’s side, closing his eyes to bask in the sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re calm now, Maurie? The shock of all shocks,” Richie mused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s trying to apologize,” Eddie laughed, laying down next to Richie. The wind swept over the water and the sand was soft beneath their heads. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a kid, Eddie believed the world was out to get him. Every plant was poison, every animal was rabid, and everybody on the street was plotting against him. Once he left Derry, he had to face the facts. Yes, there were dangers in the world, but there was beauty. There was birth and there was death, but there was life between the two. He tried his best to take it all in, but it was with Richie that he felt most alive. Laying on the beach with his best friend by his side made him feel invincible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie quickly stood up and walked to the water’s edge. The sand was scratchy in his shoes as he let the waves hit his ankles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fish pee, Eduardo,” Richie reminded him as he watched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yolo,” Eddie replied, wading deeper and deeper. His shorts were officially drenched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sat up slowly, incredulous. “Did Eddie Kaspbrak just say… yolo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did. Jesus, it’s fucking cold!” Eddie wrapped his arms around himself. “Get in here, Rich.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed. “You just told me it’s freezing, why would I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna make me go through this alone?” Eddie was up to his waist in water, his arms hovering out to the sides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie groaned as he stood up and approached the shoreline. “Fair enough.” He smiled as the waves washed over his feet and he watched Eddie venturing into the sea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a running start, Richie rushed into the water. When it reached his waist, he shoved through and grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him below the surface. Eddie thrashed, escaping Richie’s grip and bursting back to freedom with a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You dick!” Eddie spat saltwater from his mouth, rubbing his eyes. Richie laughed heartily, trying to escape to the shore when he noticed that Eddie was prepared for revenge. He grabbed Richie by the shirt before he could get far. Eddie dipped below the water, pushed off the sandy ocean floor, and flung himself onto Richie’s back, forcing him beneath the surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie kept his eyes shut under the water, but he rolled them as best he could before standing up and knocking Eddie backward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m taller than you, y’know,” Richie chuckled as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair. Eddie treaded water behind him, smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever.” Eddie made his way back to the shore, paddling until he could stand. He turned to look at the water, his clothing dripping as he sat down on the beach. The waves occasionally reached his shoes as he watched Richie follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you like this place, Eddie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, smiling as Richie sat down next to him. “It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tried to stop himself from spinning impossible tales, but he couldn’t help fantasizing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d have a little boat and spend days on the water, fishing and picnicking and laughing. They’d camp on the beach and hold each other under the stars. That big, empty house would feel a little smaller. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would feel full if he woke up next to Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of the losers knew that Richie was gay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He told Beverly on a lonely night in high school. She told Ben and swore him to secrecy. Bill found a shitty love poem in one of Richie’s notebooks and never said a word. Mike wasn’t stupid and Stan vaguely remembered a drunken conversation where secrets were shared and forgotten. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, all of the losers knew that Richie was gay except Eddie Kaspbrak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was oblivious. He mistook Richie’s flirtation for his typical boisterous behavior and assumed he somehow drew the short straw. Why else would Richie go out of his way to poke fun at him and make a scene? They were friends and Richie liked to embarrass Eddie. That was all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because their relationship was so playful, Eddie could never tell Richie he wasn’t sure about his own sexuality. It would throw a wrench in their dynamic. Of course, Richie was the person Eddie cared about more in the world. He had felt that way since childhood. However, things never got too serious. Richie didn’t like ‘serious’ and Eddie complied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Usually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we ever talk about anything real?” Eddie stared at the sand beneath his shoes as they walked back to the house. Maurie had calmed down and they were leisurely making their way home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie looked over at Eddie, confused. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Eddie shrugged. “You’ve been my best friend for, like… a million years, but I don’t think we’ve ever had a serious conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About what?” Richie chuckled, looking out at the ocean. He tried to act nonchalant, but this was his worst nightmare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About life, Richie. I don’t think I could tell you anything about your actual life that isn’t on your Wikipedia page.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” Richie looked back to Eddie, not sure what to say. He agreed. Eddie was right. The names of his parents, his birthday, his hometown, his comedy specials. That was all Eddie knew. Of course, the two knew each other inside and out. However, the question ‘what’s going on with you?’ was always answered with a playful, dismissive response or, simply, ‘the same.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” Eddie was starting to get heated. He slowed his pace, eventually stopping in his tracks. Richie did the same, turning to face him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” Eddie continued, “I care about you. And I don’t really have anyone to talk to right now.” He took a deep breath. “Myra left, and I’m pretty fucking lonely, Rich.” He could feel his throat tightening. He hadn’t meant to get so emotional. “I need someone to be there for me and I want that person to be you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie, who had been intently listening, scoffed. “There are five people in that house far better at dealing with things than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, but I want to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Eddie insisted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, I wouldn’t know where to start.” Richie started walking again, leaving him behind. “I don’t know what to fucking say! You’re going through some shit, ask people who can actually help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you such an asshole?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turned. “What the hell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why won’t you just drop the funny guy thing and actually be a person for one second? Would it kill you, Richie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, I want you to be happy, I’m not… pawning off your problems.” He took a step towards Eddie, who was on the verge of tears. “I want you to talk with people who actually might be able to help. That’s not an asshole move. I care about you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richie,” he practically whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Richie’s mind spun, trying to figure out why Eddie was being so difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, clenching his fists. “Because… I’m in love with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. richie tozier stole something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i mean... i don't know if its technically stealing but he certainly took something and brought it somewhere else</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>ben: where'd you two go? stan brought a puzzle</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>stan: 1000 pieces</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>mike: please come back we’re being held captive</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>bill: he wont let me go to the bathroom until i finish my section of the trees</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>bev: avenge us</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>bill: i have to pee so bad</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich, it’s fine, I really just want to go back to the house.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie hadn’t yet replied to Eddie’s confession. He had simply fallen silent, looked around, and started to walk down the shore. Eddie trailed behind, his head spinning with the weight of possibility. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He hates me. He’s taking me somewhere to abandon me and leave me for dead because he can’t bear to have me in his house any longer. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie turned his head, watching the house become smaller and smaller as he followed Richie and the dog. Maurie was confident. He seemed to know where they were going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Eds. We’re almost there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Almost where? Aren’t you going to say anything about… what I said?” Eddie’s feet pounded the sand as his walk became fueled by frustration. Why wasn’t Richie saying anything? They were supposed to be friends. They were supposed to be there for each other. God, Richie must hate him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scrawny trees had been running parallel to the sand for a while, but they were becoming thicker. More populous. Before Eddie knew it, they were at the entrance of a skeletal, twisted forest. He could imagine it would be terrifying at night. However, with the sun peering through the sparse branches, it was a kaleidoscope of life. Birds flitted from tree to tree as the wind gently ruffled the thin, tall grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie ducked under a branch, revealing a path through the wood. Maurie followed and Eddie watched them make their way through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” Richie muttered, pushing aside branch after branch. Eddie had spotted something in the middle of it all, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. So, he followed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dim within the trees, but the sun maneuvered through the branches and illuminated the sand in abstract shapes. Richie was far ahead of Eddie, but he had stopped in a sandy clearing, waiting. Eddie joined him, brushing twigs from his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich, this place is a death trap. Can’t we just talk? You can’t ju-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stopped. He looked at what was before him in the clearing. Between two trees hung a very familiar hammock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you do the homework for Mrs. B’s class?” Eddie relaxed in what he’d like to imagine was a sailor’s bed. He wasn’t one for a risky adventure, but the clubhouse freed his imagination. Perhaps he was a pirate lounging in his hammock, waiting for the cannon blast to signal his attack. Or, maybe, he was a mountain climber who had set up camp for the night on the side of a rocky cliff, fashioning a bed from some old cloth and carabiners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His math notebook was open on his lap. He couldn’t remember how his mother convinced him to take accelerated algebra, but at least he got to be in Richie’s class. Richie Tozier didn’t flaunt it, but he was incredibly bright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I look like a person who does homework, Eddie Spaghetti? There’s only a week left before we’re kick-ass eighth graders.” Richie was flipping through a comic book, pacing. He always had pent-up energy to burn off after sitting at a desk all day. “You’re really gonna do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because it’s almost summer doesn’t mean I can just… not do my work. It’s still work,” </span>
  <span>Eddie replied, licking his finger and turning the page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie strolled to the ladder, leaning against it as he closed his comic book. “Let me help you.” He sunk to the floor, leaning his head on a rung. “You’ll be done faster. I want to do something </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Eddie agreed, picking up his notes and pulling his knees to his chest. Richie grinned and stood up, almost stumbling as he made his way over to the hammock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Move it,” Richie muttered, smiling as he pulled himself into the hammock. He shifted his long legs, the soles of his muddy sneakers grazing Eddie’s perfectly white shoes. “Lemme see.” He extended his hand and took the notebook when Eddie offered it. After scanning the page, he held his hand out for the pencil. Eddie gave it to him. Richie began solving problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nudged him with his foot. “I said you could help me, not do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. That’s academic dishonesty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom is an academic dishonesty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t even make sense, Richie,” Eddie groaned, laying back in the hammock. He analyzed the beams on the ceiling, noticing spiderwebs that Stan would complain about later. The scratch of Richie’s pencil on paper was the only sound in the otherwise silent clubhouse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wanted to say something. Anything. He wanted to ask Richie about his day at school or see if his sister was feeling any better after the cold she caught. He had a fruit roll-up in his backpack and he was compelled to offer it up. He had no idea why. Maybe they could split it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um… want a fruit roll-up?” Eddie returned his gaze to Richie’s face, furrowed in concentration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want your cooties, Eddie Spaghetti,” he replied without looking up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Eddie said, leaning his head back once again. “How much longer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m almost done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie subtly focussed back on Richie. His brow was furrowed as his eyes scanned the page. His overgrown curls were falling in his face. It’s almost as if you could see his mind at work and Eddie never wanted to look away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His slender fingers gripping the pencil. His glasses sliding down his freckled nose. Everything. It all drove Eddie crazy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill climbed down the ladder to the clubhouse, his bookbag bouncing on his shoulders with each rung. The clubhouse was the perfect spot for homework. He walked over to the hammock to set up shop but noticed a notebook in the dirt below. After setting his bag down, he picked it up and sat down. The cover read </span>
  <em>
    <span>RICHIE TOZIER</span>
  </em>
  <span> in huge block letters. Bill chuckled and opened it. He knew he shouldn’t invade his friend’s privacy, but Richie’s illegible handwriting always made him laugh. Plus, Richie had countless cheat sheets that Bill was interested in browsing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On a page with a folded corner in the middle of the book, Bill found a poem. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your fanny packs are stupid</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your bandaids and bug spray</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But lend me your inhaler</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cuz you take my breath away</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill’s face went red. He knew who it was about, obviously. The poem was also terrible, but that was beside the point. He put it in his bag and went about his business, pushing what he had read to the back of his mind. When he stopped by Richie’s house on the way home to return the notebook, Bill had never seen Richie so pale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you look in it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stood in awe, his feet in the sand, his eyes on the hammock. “Is that-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I took it when I went home for my mom’s birthday last month.” Richie took another step forward and swung his leg over the hammock, lowering himself in. He adjusted himself, getting comfortable. His eyes met Eddie’s. “I needed some good memories around here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of good memories?” Eddie approached the hammock but hesitated. He laid his hand on the tethering tree. He looked down. Richie couldn’t be thinking what he was thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie sighed. “I don’t know, man. Memories of… you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was as if the birds stopped singing and the waves stopped crashing and the wind ceased to brush the trees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Eddie acted confused, but he knew what Richie meant. It wasn’t wishful thinking. The puzzle was coming together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you stupid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call me stupid, stupid.” Eddie turned, gesturing for Richie to make room as he joined him in the hammock. The two sat cross-legged across from each other. Their eyes locked and it was a perfect fit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie grinned. “Sorry. Do you still love me, Eds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Eddie muttered with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was certain he was hearing things. He was hallucinating. He was in a coma and he had been imaging the entire exchange. His jaunt in the filthy ocean had allowed a parasite into his brain that was affecting his perception. Richie Tozier did not just ask that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you what?” Eddie laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie furrowed his brow, worried that he had overstepped. “Can I… kiss you? I’m sorry if that’s super forwa-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could finish his sentence, he felt Eddie’s lips on his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>mwahaha two cliffhangers in a row?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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